Armpit?
by No Name and the Lonely Machine
Summary: My take on how exactly Theodore became known as Armpit. Rated T for some swearing. One-shot.


**A/N: In Small Steps, it says Armpit got his nickname through a scorpion. This is my take on what exactly happened. Set on Armpit's sixth day at Camp Green Lake. (And X-Ray isn't the leader of D-Tent yet) I do not own Holes!**

* * *

Theodore leaned against the side of his hole tiredly. Digging was so much _harder _than he had imagined. His hands were blistered, the heat was excruciating, and he was sore all over. He might've been overweight, but he still managed to send two older high school kids to the hospital. So how was it that he was so _slow_?

Theodore examined his hands: the skin was shredded and torn, and his palms were covered in bloody blisters. He looked around at the other campers. Most of them had work gloves on. Where the hell could he get a pair of those?

The heat was even worse. He wore his jumpsuit properly - which is to say, not tied around his waist - and the sensation of standing under the awful, white-hot sun was similar to what he imagined being shoved in an oven was like. The most skin revealed was his arms, shown by rolling his sleeves up past his elbows.

The only person Theodore seemed to be on good terms with was X-Ray, another D-Tent guy. Either everyone else always ignored the newer kids, or they just didn't want to cross lines with Theodore. He was a the biggest kid there - he could see that it was a possibility they didn't want to accidentally strike up a problem with him.

They were wrong on that point - Theodore was actually rather soft-spoken, and misjudged by his appearance.

However, he was glad that they stayed out of his way. He just wanted to do his time and get out of Camp Green Lake. So he worked the hostile persona to its best extent.

Theodore shoveled another shovel-full of dirt. He had been here, what, six days? And no improvement had been made yet.

He hadn't attended any of the supposedly miserable circle groups yet, where the campers "talked about their innermost thoughts and feelings" with their counselor. Or at least, the counselors tried to probe their minds for them.

His counselor was Mr. Pendanski, whom he didn't mind - that much. He was nice at first, but too…perky. It was pleasing, but after a while, it became extremely irritating. Always insisting he could turn his life around with a little effort. And he always talked about following big dreams; when it seemed to Theodore, that taking it slowly would seem better. Small steps, right?

He didn't express his opinion out loud. He would definitely be taken for a pansy if he did.

Theodore scooped another shovel-full. And another. And another. And another…

* * *

Theodore was the last one digging. He could see campers roving around back at the compound. It was the hottest part of the day, and the weather was even worse - if that was possible. Looking over at the distant mountains, he could see lightning flashing against the landscape, as if it were mocking him. Those damn things were holding up the rain. Unless it was just heat lightning; he wasn't sure. It would be even worse if it was, though. It would take away what ever little glimmer of hope he might've had for rain showers.

He took a drink from his canteen. The water had long-since become warm in the sun, and some dirt had managed to find its way in the plastic container. Theodore didn't care. He would drink anything he could get out there.

The heat waves around him shimmered in the dusty breeze. It was becoming unbearable. Not just the temperature, but the air itself. Hot, dry, never could seem to get enough in his lungs. All he succeeded in doing was pulling in stray particles of the mad dust-tornado raging twenty yards away from him.

Still, he pushed on, and kept digging.

After what seemed to be hours - though Theodore knew it could haven't been more than ten minutes - he decided to check his progress. Squatting in his hole, he laid the shovel down across the bottom. To his surprise, it fit perfectly. He was shocked. Again. He theorized the reason was that it all felt like one big hole, and the odd sense of pride he felt each time he finished would never go away until that feeling wore off. Spinning his shovel around in a circle, checking that it fit in every direction. Yep. He stood the shovel upright, making sure it was five feet. Exactly.

The wind-storm kept going, closer to him now.

Theodore could've gotten out of his hole easily - if he weren't so exhausted. He had only found the easy way out yesterday: he would dig small sections in the side of his hole to stick his feet in. From there, at a better height, he could haul himself out. It was easier on his hands, too.

While carving out the small foot-holes, Theodore failed to notice the large scorpion creeping towards him, thanks to the dust blocking out anything more than a foot in front of him.

Sticking his feet in his handiwork, he placed his forearms on the ground next to his hole, and pulled himself forward, while swinging his legs up. When he was halfway out, he gave himself an extra heave...planting the skin above his elbow right on the scorpion.

Shrieking out in pain, he flung his arm around, adrenaline pumping through his veins, and wildly scrambled the rest of the way out.

Standing up, breathing hard, he pressed his large hand to the spot where the damned thing had stung him. Not caring to look at the damage, he ran back to the compound, eyes half-shut against the sand whipping his face.

When he reached the compound, he raced to the counselors' tent. Poking his head in the flap, he asked, "Is Mr. Pendanski in here?"

One of the counselors jumped, not having seen him. "I think he's in the Wreck Room, kid."

Theodore nodded. "Thanks."

He entered the Wreck Room, where everything was broken in some way - something he still didn't understand. Why break your only entertainment source?

Spotting Pendanski in the corner, telling off some kids for gambling shower tokens, Theodore made his way to him. He wore a girlish sun-hat, knee socks, and a shit-load of sunscreen slathered on his nose.

"Mom?"

Pendanski jumped at the sound of his name. He turned around, startled. "What can I help you with, Theodore?"

In answer, he stuck out his arm.

"Oh, my!" Pendanski exclaimed. "Well, you're going to have to take a day off to rest for that. What was it exactly?"

"Scorpion," Theodore mumbled.

"Oh, my!" Pendanski repeated. Theodore mentally cringed. "Come with me."

He followed his counselor to the tent.

Sitting down on his cot, the most treatment he could get was some fast-melting ice to put on it. It numbed the stinging, until, well, it melted. Once the cold faded away, Theodore felt the stinging sensation begin to travel up his arm, very slowly. He poked at the original mark, and immediately felt a stabbing pain. "Ow!"

"What?"

Theodore gave a start. X-Ray. He hadn't heard anyone come in. "Nothin', just, um...," he trailed off, not wanting to look weak.

"What happened to your arm?" asked the small boy. He began cleaning his thick glasses, trying to get a clearer look. For all X-Ray could see when his glasses were dusty, he could walk into a hole of yellow-spotted lizards if he wasn't careful.

"Scorpion," Theodore mumbled again.

"Really?" asked X-Ray with interest. "Can I look?"

Theodore held out his arm. X-Ray leaned in closely, and examined the mark. "Whoa. That hurt a lot?"

Theodore shrugged, preferring not to admit the girlish shriek he had uttered. "Some."

X-Ray nodded thoughtfully.

Theodore looked at the sting again. The pain went from slow-paced to rapidly traveling up his arm.

A loud trumpet went off. Dinner time.

* * *

The mess of meat, beans, and vegetables had earned the nickname "Sploop". It was a fitting name, but didn't make anyone feel inclined to eat it. They did, with reluctance, with the pulpy orange juice and hard slice of white bread to medicate themselves throughout each meal.

To Theodore's horror, as he sat eating, he felt the pain halt in its moving and felt it come to a standstill in his armpit. Not only was that extremely uncomfortable, it was _embarrassing. _

Unfortunately, Theodore could not hide his wince, and caught the attention of one of his tent-mates. "What?"

"Nothing," he mumbled.

"He got stung by a scorpion," piped up X-Ray.

His table stopped eating. "Seriously?"

Theodore nodded.

"...can I see it?"

Sighing, Theodore held out his arm, displaying the sting.

"I heard that the pain can spread to other places. Is that true?" one of the other boys asked.

Theodore nodded. "It spread to my armpit." Oops. He hadn't meant to say that. The reaction was expected: the campers roared with laughter at the thought.

Feeling defensive - it really _did _hurt - he said, "Damned dust got in my eyes, and I couldn't see where I was going. I ended up landing right on the thing."

The other boys ignored this, and went back to eating, still snickering.

* * *

In the Wreck Room afterwards, the pain had increased. Theodore tried to ignore the stares as the word was spread around that he had a sore armpit. Lovely.

Some kid from E-Tent walked past him stating, "Do you think he did it on purpose, so he could get the day off?"

Theodore ignored that, too.

X-Ray sat next to him on the understuffed couch. "How's the armpit holding up?"

"It hurts," said Theodore sheepishly.

A loud whisper came from in front of them. "God, is he _still _complaining about that?"

The boys looked up to see a Lump standing in front of them, sneering.

"Go away, fat ass," said X-Ray.

The Lump looked outraged. "Fat ass? I wouldn't be talkin', skeletor, with the company you keep." The Lump turned around, and shouted to everyone, "Whiny bitch keeps complainin' about his poor armpit!" Everyone in the room laughed.

Theodore felt his dark skin flush. No. He couldn't afford to get in a fight. And this was one of the few he knew he wouldn't win - the Lump was bigger than him, and looked around seventeen. Sure, the same age as the kids he beat up, but the Lump was a delinquent, which made a big difference.

Theodore stared at the floor.

"Hey, _Armpit,_ why don't you take a nice rest?"

"Yeah, _Armpit,_ do us all a favor and take that thing with you!" The boy held his nose.

Theodore stood up, and tried not to run over there and grab him by the collar. The boy looked back at him, in fear now, taking in his appearance. X-Ray walked over to him and said, "Cool it, Armpit. You can't afford to get in a fight here." _Armpit?_

When Theodore didn't move, X-Ray steered him over to the pool table.

D-Tent's current leader walked over to them, looking impressed. "Wow, Armpit. I knew you were tough, but you looked ready to rip that guy apart. Nice one." He patted him on the shoulder, and left.

"Nice one, Armpit," repeated X-Ray, grinning widely.

_Armpit?  
Armpit...  
Oh, no. God, please, no._

Theodore recieved his nickname.

* * *

**That was a little bit longer than I expected. And it wasn't my original intention to add so much...Theodore into the story. Know what I mean?  
Anyway, reviews appreciated!**


End file.
